Read Basic Cable :: Chapter 3 - "As Seen on TV" (Part 1)

Monday, January 11, 2038
Washington, DC
7:32 AM

Nina rushed up the escalator at the Gallery Place-Chinatown Metro Station. She was already one train behind schedule, having missed the first Green Line train into town from her uncle’s house in the suburbs. Now, she was rapidly losing her chance to catch the last transfer to the Red Line.

Her new smartwatch wasn’t helping. It had been flashing “7G SERVICE UNAVAILABLE” ever since the train ducked underground, obscuring even the basic clock.

Nina crested the moving staircase just as her train settled onto the upper platform, then broke into a run in the hope of getting on before the doors closed. She dodged several locals trying to hold onto their winter scarves, almost getting run over by a taller man who didn’t see her five-foot-two frame barrel in front of him.

“Step back. Doors closing,” blared a recorded voice.

No one listened.

Nina kept running along with the crowd and bounded on to the over-full train. She wedged herself into the last remaining chunk of space and felt a puff of air as the doors clicked shut a few inches from her nose.

So, this was what her daily commute would be.

The train vibrated softly, rose a few inches as the magnetic levitation kicked in, then whooshed out of the station.

On one side, Nina was shoved against an overcoat-clad commuter whose earbuds rendered him dead to surrounding sound. On the other were two college-age brills. They carried posterboard signs reading, respectively, HI MOM! and 🡸SHE’S SINGLE!

Apparently, everyone had a Mim in their life.

“Think we’ll get on TV this time?” said Hi-Mom - a studious blonde wearing a pink Jackie Kennedy overcoat and a chunky seafoam headband.

“We better,” said the other, sporting green hair and gaudy horn-rimmed glasses. “Four tries ought to be enough.”

Four tries? Just to get in the background of the WWN morning show?

Nina snuck another look at the pair, noting green-hair’s sweat-shirt said, See Things Differently.

Two more stops passed as Nina counted off in her head. Judiciary Square. Union Station.

The train glided into daylight as the underground portion of the Metro ended and the track sloped up to become an elevated train. Nina blinked as they pulled into a gleaming silver station, and felt the car drop onto the tracks as the maglev disengaged.

The station marker read NoMa-Gallaudet-WWN Plaza.

The doors whizzed open a little faster than Nina had planned, and she fell into the winter air as Hi-Mom tried to push past her. Both of them stumbled out onto the platform, catching their balance before either fell entirely off their feet.

“I am so sorry!” the young woman said, bending over to pick up a glossy copy of Priscilla Davis’ autobiography, The Whole Truth.

“No worries.” Nina did her best to dust herself off. “That’s a good book, by the way.”

Hi-Mom smiled. “Yeah, I’m really enjoying it.”

“Sophie!” See-Things-Differently shouted as she ran for the escalators. “We’re gonna be late!” She disappeared down the stairs, revealing that the back of her shirt said Drop Acid.

“Nice meeting you,” Sophie said politely, rushing to join her friend.

Making her own way to the escalator, Nina noticed a crowd gathering on the plaza below. It looked like WWN FirstLight was having a concert. Some new girl group, judging by all the bobbysoxers.

After pushing through the sea of poodle skirts, she arrived at the front door of what used to be the Washington Coliseum, a hulking mass of red brick and concrete built as an ice-hockey arena 1940s. Over the years it had hosted basketball, inaugural balls, served as medical station during the riots following the assassination of Martin Luther King, and hosted the first Beatles concert in the United States.

Now, it sported a shiny blue WWN logo, serving the network’s main newsroom and the centerpiece of WWN Plaza. Behind it rose the 20-story glass monolith of WWN Tower, the tallest building in Washington, but everyone knew that the real action was in the arena. A digital ticker scrolled headlines over the huge double doors.

PRESIDENT’S PUSH FOR FIBER-CABLE FUNDING FALLS SHORT...PILGRIMS FLOCK TO ROME FOR TOMORROW’S PAPAL FUNERAL...PAOPAO BUBBLECOFFE TO DISCONTINUE PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE AFTER 37 YEARS…

Nina checked her watch, making a mental note to stop by a PaoPao on the way home.

7:46 A.M. One minute late shouldn’t be a problem.

She reached for the chromed handle of a giant glass door, but it was shoved open from within. A woman burst out, her graying red hair swinging wildly as she yelled into a phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just got out of a meeting with Davis…Yeah…Oh, trust me, I have more reasons to hate that woman than you’ll ever know…Pitched our side, but I don’t think Prissy could find a shade of gray in a freaking Crayola box.”

The voice trailed off as Nina stood starstruck, holding the door open. Less than a minute on the job and she’d already crossed paths with America’s best-selling non-fiction author, documentary filmmaker, and expert on terrorism.

“You’re letting the cold in,” came a voice from inside. “Can I help you?”

A receptionist was seated behind a large, chromed desk, staring over her glasses.

Nina tried to recover but couldn’t help herself. “Was that-”

“S. Flannery MacClennan?” The receptionist finished her question. “Mmm-hmm. Let me guess, you read Jihad Brides in college.”

Nina found the sense to let go of the door. “I have a signed copy. Changed my life.”

“You and every other girl in this joint. Name?”

“Sorry,” Nina came back to herself, “I have an appointment with Ms. Davis. New correspondent.”

“Name?” the receptionist asked louder.

“Nina Constantinos.”

The receptionist looked her up and down, raised a skeptical brow, then picked up a desk phone and punched a few numbers. “Your 7:45 is here, should I send her up? … Okay, I’ll let her know.”

The phone clicked down on the receiver.

“You're late.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just-”

“Take the elevator to the third floor. Only one office up there, so no directions needed. Welcome aboard, Ms. Consternatious.”

“Thanks.” Nina smiled as nicely as she could at the mispronunciation and headed for the elevator.

She emerged a few seconds later onto a third-floor catwalk overlooking the most stunning newsroom she had ever seen. Even this early, people were rushing back and forth, yelling into telephones, waving tablets. On the opposite end of all the chaos, on an elevated pedestal behind a huge glass wall, she saw a giant blue desk.

The most-watched evening news set on the planet.

On TV, the soaring curve of the concrete ceiling made this place look like a cathedral of modern journalism. Up here, however, Nina’s head was less than three feet from that ceiling. This was a WWN’s claustrophobic bell tower.

Next to the elevator was a glass door leading to the floor’s lone office suite, complete with a gleaming silver nameplate.

PRISCILLA DAVIS

As if anyone needed reminding.

Nina yanked open the door. The walls of the suite were stark white and impeccably clean. The only decoration was a digital wall clock, and against one wall sat a hulking machine that Nina had to stare at for a second. She’d never seen a real-life photocopier.

Behind a black desk sat a young secretary with a tight, fire-red ponytail. She wore a blazer with loud black and white stripes - perfectly pressed, but a size too big – and sported bug-eyed glasses with tortoise-shell rims in shocking lime green.

“Constantinos?” The woman asked as she arrived.

“Yes,” Nina replied, “I'm the new-”

“You're late.”

Was everyone here going to be like that?

“Sorry,” Nina took a breath and tried to project confidence. “The metro ran slower than I expected. Won't happen again.”

“It had better not,” came the clipped reply. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Sinéad Szerbiak, Ms. Davis’ executive assistant. In case you missed the first five times, its pronounced ‘shin-AID,’ and I’m only saying that once. Got it?”

Nina nodded. Sinéad looked far too young to be assistant to WWN’s top personality. Nina would have pegged her for a college kid doing an internship.

“Good,” Sinéad rose from her desk, towering over Nina by at least six inches, and moved stiffly to a heavy black door in the back of the room. “Since you’re working directly under Ms. Davis in the News and Politics division, I assume we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Hopefully, in the future, those meetings will occur at the times scheduled.”

Sinéad did not open the door or usher Nina in. Instead, she disappeared into the back office, pulling the door closed behind her. A few seconds later, she emerged, smartly clicking it shut again before speaking.

"She's ready for you." Sinéad nodded, then returned to her desk. leaving Nina staring at the door, unsure how to react, and suddenly unaware of how her hands worked.

"I said she's ready," Sinéad's voice clanged, "You can go in."

SUGGESTED MOOD MUSIC: "One Way Ticket (Because I Can)" by LeAnn Rimes (Curb Records, 1996)